Cold
by Bramblefox
Summary: As a side effect to being cold all the time, Javert has a very odd transformation occur...This is not a oneshot. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**A Javert fan fiction by Bramblefox**

**This sort of came to being after reading a comment on how Javert is always burning his coat because he stands too close to fire, and someone theorized that he's always cold. Enjoy, and please review because I do like to get feedback.**

**EDIT: THIS THING IS A MONSTER!! It's grown far larger and different than I ever imagined it to be--HELP!!!**

________________

_I am cold._

_Forever it seems that I am freezing to death on a stone prison floor. I am young, still a child with a child's thoughts in that ageless stone cell. Between shivering and the threat of tears I wonder vaguely where my mother has gone, or if she even exists anymore. The thought doesn't bring much consternation; she never seems to be around enough to miss anyway._

_The winter wind screams through the window with icy fingers that grab at my thin rags and threaten to pluck my rough blanket from my skin. Snow collects in numbing powder on the floor, and I make my trembling way to the barred door. As I cling to the frosty metal I whisper to the guard, "Please…I'm so cold…so cold…"_

_The guard obligingly squeezes another blanket through the bars, watching with a mixture of pity and sadness as I pounce and wrap the thick material around my bony shoulders. "Poor kid," he mutters; the words curl in blue-white steam on his breath and he shoves his hands in the pockets of his government-issue overcoat. "Poor kid…"_

_The man's pity fade away in a ghostly sigh. The blanket is securely wrapped around my body, but the frozen floor leeches away any hope of warmth. I shudder uncontrollably and rock back and forth to a terrible mantra echoing in my icy brain, "Cold…so cold…so cold…"_

_As I huddle miserably an odd twitching, completely unlike the cold-induced shivering, runs through my legs. The oddness of it all escapes my serious attention until a second later, when a similar twitch and sprouting sensation assaults the base of my spine. I look down my back to see a fuzzy black tail; all thoughts of the chill vanish momentarily as I scramble to my feet._

_Only…they aren't feet anymore. I look down to see shiny hooves attached to slender black legs covered in hair. In the next few moments my thin pants split at the seams and fall to the ground as my behind gets noticeably, disturbingly bigger. I nearly fall down but catch myself with an extra pair of legs. Within ten seconds of the first twitching sensation I stand on four legs with what seems to be the lower part of a horse attached at the waist. _

_As I look down with astonishment and something akin to terror the guard at the door gapes. Before I can plead for him to stay and help me he flees, racing in the general direction of the prison's office. I stay frozen to the floor, uncertain of how to use these new limbs without falling on my face. For a few moments, at least, the cell is quiet and regrettably cold. I begin shivering again with the chill and fear, gather up the discarded blanket, and wrap it around the part that is still human. In the silence the awful chant starts up where it left off: "Cold…so cold…"_

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Javert awoke with a start, abruptly cutting off the muttered "So cold…so cold…" that escaped between his chattering teeth. All his blankets were kicked off to bunch at the foot of the bed, a testimony to his outward-induced nightmare.

Well, technically it wasn't a nightmare, Javert mused as he sat up to gather the twisted blankets. There had been a time as a child when he was always cold while living in the prison in which he was born. The thick stone walls retained a constant coolness even in the heat of summer, and winter with its lack of functional stoves was nearly unbearable.

An involuntary shiver ran through his body at the thought, and Javert clamped his jaw shut in annoyance. He didn't hate the cold for its physical discomfort--he could handle being uncomfortable. The real reason he hated the cold was the utter lack of control. Once he became too cold the shivering would start in a desperate attempt to warm up; teeth chattering so loudly he could hardly hear himself think and limbs shivering so hard he seemed to be having a fit of sorts. Whenever it struck, no matter how hard he tried or willed it, he simply could not control it.

But he had no idea where the centaur part came from--it was vivid enough to be counted as memory, but he was certain that it wasn't. It was probably taken from an idle thought that animals with their thick fur coats didn't feel the cold as intensely as people. Wishful thinking--animals suffered as much as people in winter.

Javert shook his head, dispelling the minor reminisce and focusing his attention on getting up and making the bed. As he moved through the familiar motions of his personal toilette the dream faded until he could successfully ignore it.

Before putting on his greatcoat he noted (again) the multiple burns along the tail and reminded himself to stop hovering over stoves. It seemed that the cold that assaulted him in dreams pushed him to seeking outward comfort in the form of heat. He pulled on the huge coat while shaking his head at his unconscious silliness, took another look at his orderly apartment, and exited the tenement building. The dream had died away, work was waiting, and he didn't think about it again.

-----------------------------

It was a fairly short walk from Javert's tenement, but it seemed longer due to the icy November weather. The air was clear, and by keeping to a brisk walk Javert managed to work up a light sweat by the time he entered the station; the thick, warm air within pushed its way through his thick coat until an unpleasant stifling sensation encouraged him to strip it off, revealing a neat dark blue uniform. After reporting to the officer on duty Javert made his way to a desk. As he sat a grinning red-headed officer spoke to him.

"Terribly sorry, Inspector, we've no use for your stalking abilities today. Instead, I've been given the order to present you with a nice stack of paperwork." As the young man spoke he plopped the aforementioned stack on Javert's desk and leaned forward against the desk.

Javert glanced at the papers and suppressed an urge to roll his eyes. "After telling me last week that all officers ranking above captain were required to stand outside for two hours while a fire report was investigated when in reality all the lesser-ranking officers had lost an irreplaceable file and were looking for it, what makes you think I ought to believe this is mine and not yours, Sergeant?"

The young man's grin grew wider. "Ah, that was a good one, wasn't it? No, I'm not pulling your leg this time. Ask Commissioner Benoit if you don't believe me." The last sentence encouraged a pathetic attempt to look hurt.

"If you lack something useful to do, Sergeant Prideux, I'm sure I can come up with something." Javert fixed the sergeant with a practiced glare.

"Oh no, I have plenty to do," Prideux said, abandoning the attempt to force his good-natured features into hurt. He stood up, stretched, and took his good old time getting back to his own desk.

Javert took the opportunity to succumb to the eye-rolling impulse. Sergeant Reginald Prideux was harmless enough as a person and loved to try and provoke Javert to anger. The younger man never succeeded past mild annoyance, but that didn't stop him from trying. Especially when he was trying to shove his workload off to other people. Javert looked back down at the papers with distaste but resigned himself to the mind-numbing process of filling them out.

Several tedious hours later, Javert rubbed his eyes in an attempt to uncross them; only three more sheets to go, and then he could escape in the form of patrolling. He never quite appreciated his active-duty unless he was trapped in a stifling room for a few hours with only a single pot of coffee between eight officers. He had personally glared down Prideux just a few minutes before for the last cup; said cup of coffee sat half-drunk and lukewarm at the corner of his papers. Javert allowed a feline grin of satisfaction at the memory of Prideux shrinking back and making a new pot of coffee with the attitude of a whipped cur; the man's annoying mannerisms really made tiny victories like that gratifying.

Javert shook his head slightly. _Pity when one's only entertainment came in the form of office victories,_ he mused, picking up the cup of coffee and grimacing at the grounds that swished into his mouth. That was the worst part about the last cup…He made his best attempt to ignore the grit and concentrate on the work at hand.


	2. 2 First Stage

**Chapter 2: First Stage.**

**I forgot to put this up for the last chapter, so here goes: I do not own, and never will own, Les Miserables.**

_________________________

_The dream has changed somewhat--instead of being locked in an underground cell, I am in the middle of a huge field; vision is minimal due to the driving snow and biting wind. I am still a child, shuddering and stumbling in an aimless pattern. I still have control over my limbs, but it won't be long before the uncontrollable shivering begins; then I will not be able to keep moving and death will be inevitable._

_The tears of frustration and helpless fear that well up hot in my eyes turn to ice on my lashes and face; without looking I can tell that my face is white with frostbite. The panic within my chest produces terrified screams for help, but the wind catches the sound and throws it back in my face. The shivering begins, throwing me to the frozen ground…_

_An odd twitching in my legs. Somehow the movement seems familiar--I struggle to work through my numb brain for a memory that might connect a name for the sensation. Then a sprouting sensation. Within moments I am a young centaur; I try to wrap my fingers in the hair upon my head but encounter what feels like stiff ears. They flick back and forth with a life of their own. _

_The transformation had not changed my situation in the least--I am still a shivering wreck in the middle of a snow-driven plain--but I can struggle to my feet and regain a bit of control, enough to set off in another attempt to find somebody, anybody, who can help me. But the icy wind whips up again in its determination to freeze and kill…_

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Once again Javert was awoken from the nightmare to violent shuddering and fitful mutters. He ground his teeth in annoyance, effectively stopping the shivering, and opened his eyes. The faintest grey light came from the window: too early to get up without an excuse, and yet too late to go back to sleep. Javert reached for the blankets and burrowed under them in an attempt to recapture a bit of warmth, but they proved to be chilled. After a moment's deliberation he reluctantly eased to a standing position and dressed.

Upon pulling his shirt over his head Javert began to notice something a little on the odd side. The shirt's neck seemed to catch on something on his head--something that felt like his ears. But he didn't recall ever having that problem before. He absentmindedly scratched an ear--and nearly fell to the floor in astonishment. What met his fingers were hairy, stiff, and at least six inches in length. And they were firmly attached to the sides of his head.

Being a logical, methodical sort of person, Javert did the first thing that came to mind: he scrambled like an idiot over to the tiny shaving mirror in the corner. Since the mirror was only about five inches across, and the lighting happened to be quite dim, he got very small, clipped, faint views of the ears. However, after he lit a candle it was enough to tell that they were most definitely horse ears, covered with glossy black hair, and currently twitching back and forth in consternation. He didn't know exactly how he did it--they just moved without thought.

Once the initial panic died down, Javert sat down in the only chair in the apartment and tried to work out logically the reason that he would wake up with horse ears. None came to mind. As he calmed down it occurred to him that he was to be at work in an hour. All right, he could deal with that. But first, to do something with these ears…

------------------------------

More than one person stared (and then yanked their stare away in ill attempts at disinterest) as Javert entered the police station. His top hat was pulled down farther than usual over his ears, and he declined to take it off as was his usual wont. Sergeant Reginald Prideux almost made the mistake of approaching the inspector with another of his prepared remarks, but a glance at the glaring face quickly changed his mind (and probably saved his neck as well). Instead, Prideux sidled off to the side and tried to watch without appearing to do so, shuffling some papers and pouring a cup of coffee.

Prideux's interest in his superior may have seemed odd, considering all he did was bother the man, but being from a large family he liked bantering. Javert was a tempting target because of his seemingly impenetrable stoicism; Prideux counted it a minor miracle if he got Javert riled past expressions of long-suffering. But Prideux was also the sort of person who liked nearly everyone he crossed paths with, despite the extensive teasing he poured on said person. Thus, it was natural that he became concerned (read: nosy) over other people's problems, real or otherwise.

As Javert stormed his way through the office Prideux followed a few feet away. He dropped papers off at various desks (ignoring the confused/irritated glances shot his way), paused occasionally to "read" the papers he held, and kept Javert in his sights the entire time. Javert seemed oblivious to Prideux's existence and stopped in front of the officer on duty.

"Inspector Javert reporting in I'm going out on patrol," Javert speedily informed the startled officer, touched the brim of his top hat, and spun around to nearly run into Prideux. The younger man flinched under the smouldering gaze, scattering a handful of papers on the floor in the process.

"What. Are. You. Doing." The words clipped off individually, making each one sound like its own sentence. Prideux made a brave attempt to appear nonchalant, but with Javert snarling in his face the attempt was a poor one. He muttered something about the papers and took a large gulp of the coffee in his hand, realizing too late that the liquid was scalding and nearly took the skin off of his tongue. Before he could choke it down he spat the coffee all over Javert's greatcoat.

Both gaped at the mess; since there was a very good chance that his very survival was at stake Prideux did the smartest thing possible: he fled.

"Sorryberightbackbye!!" Prideux shot across the room, leaving a stunned silence in his wake. Expecting to feel Javert's huge hands on his neck at any moment added a lovely speed to his sprinting, and within four seconds flat Prideux flew out the back door of the Prefecture.

_I can't believe it--I'm alive!_ Prideux took a moment to calm his racing heart; wheezing in the cold air was like a shock to the system, and he noticed that he was still clutching the mug of coffee. After a few moments he decided that it was safe to go back inside. Even after reassuring himself of the undoubted safety within he still crept back cautiously, opening the door to the inner room by inches and peeping around it to scout out for any danger before entering. No sign of Javert (which was good). On the other hand, everyone was snickering at him. Not good.

"That was a nice one, Prideux," the nearest officer sniggered. Prideux shot a death glare into the room, doing little to dispel the general air of hilarity.

"Yes, well, the Inspector's been needing something crazy to happen to him lately," Prideux snapped, after checking the room to make sure no superiors were lurking around. He slammed the door and set his coffee down on the nearest desk, hard enough to splash onto some nearby paperwork (he noted with satisfaction that it happened to belong to the officer who mocked him). He ignored the man's spluttered protests and slid theatrically towards his desk. "I'm going on patrol, _adieu_," he called and slipped out the outside door before a general protest could be brought up at his departure.


	3. Chapter 3: Stalking

_**I do not own, and never will own, Les Miserables. **_

_**------------------------**_

_As he exited the Prefecture, sergeant Reginald Prideux heaved a deep breath of the crisp air. He liked cold weather, but not for the cold. No, he liked it for the lack of insects. Bugs meant he was usually put on fly patrol, a duty that he despised. He hadn't seen the merest hint of a bug for weeks, and that was just the way he liked it. _

_As Prideux trotted down the steps outside the Prefecture and along the street (dodging random pedestrians and generally keeping to himself) he caught a glimpse of Javert's dark grey coat and top hat a couple hundred yards ahead. Despite his supposed near-death experience, Prideux closed the distance between himself and the Inspector until about thirty feet separated them._

_Tailing Javert proved to be quite boring, as all he did was walk around and follow his normal patrolling beat. Prideux proved tenacious for the better part of an hour; when nothing out of the ordinary happened he took to stopping for a few minutes to see how long he could keep Javert in sight, and whether he could find him again after the latter disappeared. But even that little game began to pall after a while._

_Prideux slumped against the brick wall of a building with a heavy sigh; Javert continued to pace normally on his way. Prideux rolled his eyes, hoping that the man would do something, ANYTHING other than just walk. __Do something out of the ordinary, man!_

Javert continued to go on his way. Prideux stared at the thick cloud cover in the sky and wondered absentmindedly if it would snow. He liked snow. It was fun to be the first one on the street after a good snow so he could get a good running start and slide on the walkway before the Prefecture and try to keep his balance. Now that was something he couldn't see Javert doing, no sir. Prideux snickered to himself at the mental image and glanced down the street. Javert had vanished.

Prideux heaved himself up and stood on tiptoe to look down the street; no sign of the Inspector. He stretched and shoved his hands into his pockets before continuing down the street--chances were Javert was just a little ways ahead and it would only be a moment to catch up with him.

Fifteen minutes later, Prideux still hadn't come across Javert. Even backtracking and going down a few streets didn't bring up anything. All the exertion made him red-faced and more than a little hot swathed in his long wool coat; combined with the irritation at not finding his quarry made him a little on the snappish side. Finally he gave up and headed back towards the Prefecture. Careless glances into the alleyways proved to be a good idea, however, because after one such glance Prideux did a double take as he recognized Javert some distance down it.

Prideux hid himself behind a building corner and peered around it. What he saw made him astonished, cautious, and insanely curious: Javert was in the alley, all right, but he was twisting what seemed to be horse ears sticking out the sides of his head. As he listened Prideux caught soft words of muttered swearing on the part of Javert. So that explained why the Inspector had been more irritable than his usual wont…Prideux was overcome with an overpowering curiosity, but the aforementioned cautiousness whispered that it would be best to observe and not speak for the time being. So he watched as Javert abandoned the twisting with a hiss of pain and massaged the ears carefully. After a moment he placed the top hat upon his head once again, carefully pushing the ears under the edges and pulling the hat down until none of the black hair showed. 

Prideux flattened himself against the corner, then jumped as Javert started to turn. In a surprising show of speed Prideux managed to fling himself down half a block and into a storefront doorway before Javert exited the alley. To his relief Javert continued down the opposite direction, and Prideux heaved a sigh of relief. At that moment he was nearly run over as a gaggle of various people exiting the store; his clumsy endeavor to keep from underfoot resulted in his being yelled at by an irritated bourgeois. 

"Sorry," Prideux muttered and scurried away as fast as he could without appearing suspicious. He buried his chin into his coat collar and reflected. So, Javert had something crazy happen to him at last--fortunately it didn't involve coffee. Aside from that minor point, Prideux now had something to keep himself occupied in off-hours; spying on the Inspector would be an interesting undertaking. He needed the practice anyway.

--------------------------------

_Damn Prideux and his nosiness! Damn his smirking red face! And damn his idiotic, bumbling 'spying'! _

Javert fumed as he slammed the door to his tenement, applying each phrase like an acidic balm that ate away at his limited supply of goodwill. He had seen Prideux skulking around, unwilling to come out after the little coffee incident earlier in the morning but obviously attempting to spy. And he acted like he _knew _something, the little twerp. 

Javert condescended to mutter a greeting at the landlady, but before he could vanish upstairs Madame Gillette poked her head around the corner. 

"You haven't paid your rent for this quarter, Monsieur," she began with a wheeze (she seemed to have a permanent lung disorder of sorts).

"Madame, I handed you the money myself two days ago, at the beginning of the month. It's not my responsibility if you 'lost' it." He aimed himself towards the stairs.

"I don't recall that," Mme. Gillette hedged. 

"_I_ do." A hair to the right, finger on the trigger…

"And how many times have I told you to take your hat off inside? We must keep up a sense of propriety--" Mme. Gillette reached out to pluck the hat from Javert's head.

"Apologies madame pardonne moi!" He pulled the 'trigger' and shot up the stairs, out of reach of the woman's grasping fingers. She was too old and fat to even think about keeping up, and settled with yelling at his back, "I won't forget! That hat's coming off the moment you enter this house, understand?"

Javert ignored her squawking and slipped into his room, locking the door and easing his hat off with a groan of pain. The ears popped back out with a hateful perkiness. Despite their apparent flexibility they still ached from being stuffed under a hat for hours. Perhaps it would help to wear a different hat--something shapeless that came farther down his neck. But then he'd have to explain the sudden change in attire. 

Or not, seeing as a well-placed glare tended to dry up inquiries like a drop of water on a hot iron. Inquiries didn't have a satisfying sizzling sound as they dried up, but it didn't really matter at this point. All he needed now was a good snarling rebuttal and no one would bother him.

He took his heavy greatcoat off and moved towards the single window the room provided; a glance outside put a scowl on his face. Prideux. The little nincompoop was trying to act nonchalant and doing a horrendous job of it, earning suspicious glances from everyone for half a block. Well, if the ninny wanted to make fool of himself, Javert would have no part of it. The sight of the man galled him to no end. 

A grumbling arose from Javert's stomach; odd how he seemed to be growing hungrier. Usually he didn't eat for another hour or so. Considering that he had eaten at least four times over the course of the day he shouldn't have felt hungry at all. His stomach disagreed vehemently. After a moment's hesitation he crammed the thrice-accursed ears under his hat, pulled on the coat, and reluctantly made his way downstairs.

Although he made a good attempt to be quiet, Mme. Gillette had ears like a watchdog: if there was a profit to be made, monetary or otherwise, she could hear it.

"Monsieur…" Argh, the whining voice! She only used that when she wanted something done! Javert left behind all decent efforts for silence and blasted down the last four steps, disappearing out the door before Mme. Gillette could hobble out of the 'office' (actually just a former storage room).

"Monsieur!" Javert sped up, leaping over the front steps and making good timing down the block. Mme. Gillette made it to the front step and yelled something at his retreating back; fortunately there was a stiff breeze and the word were tossed back in the woman's face.

Once he couldn't see Mme. Gillette anymore, Javert slowed to a walk. The frantic sprint down the block must have looked rather ridiculous, but Javert knew what would happen if he didn't escape from her clutches: the woman would try to make him a go-fer for the next hour or so, claiming that she was too weak to run her own errands and add a 'poor me' touch, lamenting that she didn't have a soul left in the world…argh! It was aggravating beyond belief.

At that moment Javert noticed that his appearance was rather disheveled: the top buttons to his coat were undone. He hated it when the landlady could send him sprinting down the street only to realize that he had forgotten some part of his _toilette_. The escape from Mme. Gillette proved to be only a temporary respite; as Javert did the top button of his coat he saw Prideux again, plopping down on a bench a hundred feet away. The man was making such an obvious attempt not to be seen that it was laughable, if Javert didn't find it so annoying. 

Oh, to hell with him. Javert was hungry. He tucked his chin into the collar of his coat, stuffed his hands into the coat pockets, and strode down the street, blocking Prideux's aggravating presence from his mind.

----------------------------

**Thanks to AchillesMaiden and EnjyGlomper for reviewing! To AM: Prideux is probably one of the most fun characters I've written--and I just might write a bit about him after this story. XD**


	4. Chapter 4: An Ally of Sorts

_**This chapter is dedicated to AchillesMaiden and EponineJavert, for their kind reviews. Thank you so much!**_

_**I do not own, and never will own, Les Miserables. All I own Mizzie-wise is a Javert plushie, a long black coat, tall boots, some CDS and the book. *cries* **_

___________________________

_Sergeant Reginald Prideux winced as Javert fixed him with a disgusted glare and stomped down the block. He didn't think he was being __that_ obvious--well, except for when he dove behind that tree and knocked over a trash can. Oh, and when he accidentally tripped an old lady by stretching his legs out while sitting on a bench. But other than that he thought that he'd been very careful. 

Apparently Javert didn't think so. And he let Prideux know with the scorching glowers he shot every time Prideux came into his sight. Regardless of the probable physical harm he was earning for himself, Prideux doggedly kept on Javert's trail. 

Oddly enough, the next place Javert stopped happened to be a café of sorts. Prideux crinkled his eyebrows in mild confusion and hung around the outside of the building; by occasional peering through one of the windows he kept an eye on his quarry. 

Javert wove deftly through the tables and sparse patrons within, making his way towards a small table in the corner. After seating himself he kept his coat and hat on, ignoring the curious glances from the patrons. Almost immediately a serving-girl went over and took his order (Prideux never got service that quickly, he must have something wrong with his technique). The girl left, returned almost immediately with a bottle of wine, and left again with Javert pouring the first glass down his throat.

Outside a chill wind blew, slicing through Prideux's coat; he shuddered and, after a moment's hesitation, slipped inside the café. It was only to warm up--if Javert thought that he was coming over for an interrogation it wouldn't be good, but his other choice was to stay outside in the icy wind.

"Or you could just go home." 

Prideux jumped, glancing around wildly to see who spoke. No one was looking at him, except for…whoops. He turned with what might have been theatrical slowness if he hadn't had the honest dread covering on his face. 

Javert fixed Prideux with an irritated stare, which the younger man was loathe to meet. "Come on, Sergeant, sit down," Javert said with false politeness. "I'm sure you're frozen to the core after trailing me all day."

Prideux shuffled over and sat down while trying to keep as far away from Javert as was polite. Of course, Javert couldn't resist a jab at his silly attempts at trailing, but that didn't make it any less embarrassing. The inspector seemed unconscious of Prideux's discomfort except for the sparking glint in his eye.

"So, Sergeant…"--Javert leaned back in a good show of relaxation while Prideux shifted awkwardly under that piercing gaze-- "what precisely is your sudden interest in my daily life? Surely you don't suspect me of double-crossing or shirking my duties."

Double-crossing? The thought never crossed Prideux's mind in the least, and he protested his innocence. As far as shirking--well, Javert was the hardest-working member of the Corps. No one would even think of blaming him for slacking.

"Ah, I see. So…what would your interest be, if not professional?" Javert poured another glass of wine and sipped it instead of pouring the alcohol down his throat in one gulp.

Prideux hesitated, glancing at Javert sidelong, trying to measure how he would react if he knew the real reasons were under that top hat. "Well…"

"Come, we are colleagues, after all." Javert abandoned his constraint and finished off the glass of wine in a single gulp. 

Prideux relented, tossed all precaution to the wind, and leaned conspiratorially over the table. "I saw your ears earlier today."

A single flicker of startled alarm crossed Javert's unconcerned face; then it vanished so quickly that Prideux wondered if he had even seen it. "What of them?" Javert inquired, twirling the empty glass in his fingers; Prideux had to marvel at the self-constraint the man showed in not strangling him right then and there.

"Oh, nothing much," Prideux replied, attempting to mimic the relaxed air Javert held by leaning back and putting his hands behind his head. "They just look remarkably like horse ears, that's all."

Javert froze; Prideux wondered belatedly if he should start running. Fortunately Javert didn't seem inclined to leap for his throat (yet). Instead, he set down the empty glass and fixed Prideux with a serious gaze. "What else do you know?"

Prideux felt his eyebrows fly up his forehead. He didn't know anything substantial yet, and he was about to say so when the serving girl came back with a bowl of soup and some bread. Javert gave the girl miniscule acknowledgement and began automatically gulping down the food, all the while fixing Prideux with that scrutinizing look. "Well?"

"Well…um, I don't know anything else," Prideux stammered. "I've only been watching today."

Javert snorted. "Fine job of watching. I've not seen a more clumsy specimen in all my years on the work force."

Prideux flushed. "I don't have much opportunity to watch people," he grumbled. "I'll bet you had the same problems when you started trailing."

Javert shrugged. "I wouldn't know." 

Prideux watched in irritation as Javert continued calmly shoveling down the soup and tucking in pieces of bread as he tore them from the loaf. He'd always known Javert to be elusive and irksome, but those traits seemed to be multiplied when the inspector was alone. 

In the next twenty minutes, Prideux watched with incredulity as Javert managed to eat four bowls of soup, the rest of the bottle of wine, and two loaves of bread. And he even had room left for a strange-looking dessert sort of thing. 

"Erm…" Prideux stood as Javert finished off the dessert-thing (he still wasn't quite sure what it was). "I guess I'll leave you with your appetite…sir…"

"Hmm," Javert said, waving him off. Prideux began edging away, but Javert held up a hand. "First, come with me." The phrase was spoken in such a commanding tone that Prideux froze where he stood; Javert paid for his substantial meal, then escorted his subordinate out the door.

Prideux followed stiffly, wondering what Javert had in mind. It wasn't until they had walked for nearly a block that the Inspector halted. "First, stop following me around. It gets rather annoying after a while. Second, while I don't want you following me I do want you to find out everything you can about animal and people combinations. Third, I'm putting this coat on your cleaning tab, because that coffee you splattered all over it refuses to come out."

At the first two Prideux nodded, agreeable enough, but the third made him pause and peruse Javert's coat. There didn't seem to be any stains on the coat (although there were burns aplenty). This was probably payback for been an irritating idiot--

"Go on, go home," Javert said, giving Prideux a shove. Prideux stumbled, but managed to stay on his feet--a minor miracle in itself, because the Inspector wasn't exactly a weakling. "Don't forget what I told you."

"Small chance of that," Prideux replied, shoving his hands into his pockets; as he leaned into the breeze that blustered through the streets he had to wonder about Javert's powers of reasoning. Those three unrelated requests…well, it wasn't his place to judge superiors. He would do as he was told.

--------------------------------

Another nightmare, another morning, another strange addition to Javert's already strange bodily additions. This time he awoke when a tail grew and tangled furiously with the sheets; once he untangled the mess and got his bearings, Javert felt mildly relieved. A tail wasn't quite as obvious as, say, horse ears. He had tried to sleep with said ears covered, but after being imprisoned for most of a twelve-hour period they protested vehemently with sharp pain. So they were left free and twitching at every little sound.

Actually, there seemed to be a mixed advantage to the ears, hateful though they were to look at: their funnel-shape snatched every sound for two blocks and sucked up said sound until he was on the verge of going crazy. Craziness aside, he managed to overhear three love sonnets and a plot for some gamins planning to break some street lamps. Idly he wondered what it would sound like in court if he would overhear a real plot: "_And where were you on the night of such-and-such?" "I was lying awake in bed, Your Honor." _Talk about awkward. 

But back to the tail--the flesh and bone was about twelve inches long, with jet black hair extending another three feet or so, enough to drag on the ground. With a little twisting and turning he managed to put the hair into a thick braid (the easiest way to contain it) and placed it so that the hair ran down the back of a pant leg. It tickled the back of his leg, but not enough to be too distracting. With the long coat there was no way anyone could see it.

Javert eased his hat gently over the ears--thankfully they didn't hurt anymore, but the sensation was decidedly uncomfortable and every sound was muffled. It sounded like the world was speaking through cotton. Or silk, considering the hat's construction, but that was beside the point. 

He exited his apartment and shuffled down the stairs to the first floor. Mme. Gillette had left for her morning ritual of breakfast at the bistro down the street, so she didn't accost him as he exited the building. Even though the woman aggravated the hell out of him, he kind of missed her greeting that day. Perhaps it had something to do with this crazy transformation--he seemed to be desiring human company. Or he could just be going insane. 

The latter seemed more possible, given recent circumstances. But Javert didn't have much time to dwell upon the chances of going insane, because the sound of a person running some distance behind him caught his attention.

Sergeant Prideux was sprinting towards Javert, long legs stretched out to their full length in order to slap his feet down against the cobblestones with a wince-worthy smack. A long red scarf trailed behind him, his coat was open and flapping, and his uniform had most definitely not been ironed recently. All in all, it was a most unsatisfactory turnout, and Javert was about to say so when Prideux yelled (still from half a block away), "I found something about your ears!!"

Javert winced at the bellow echoing down the street. Fortunately the only people on the block didn't seem to notice the red-haired young man screaming his lungs out at Inspector Javert; all he could do at the moment was wait for Prideux to gallop up and screech to a halt.

"I found…something you might…find interesting…Inspector," Prideux wheezed, bending over and slapping his chest in an attempt to slow his exercise-induced panting. 

"Yes, and now everyone else for two blocks knows that as well," Javert snapped. "What you need is a couple hundred lessons in nuance and subtleties."

"Erm…whatever you say," Prideux replied with infuriating happy-go-lucky-ism. After a few more moments of gasping cold air he captured his breath enough to explain himself. "As I was saying, I went to the library and was poking around for some information on your ears--"

"Good God, man, can't you keep your voice down?" Javert grumbled. 

"Well, excuse me," Prideux replied. He looked around with an exaggerated cautionary air, shooting faux suspicious glances over his shoulders, and said in a stage whisper, "I found out that the only creature that is part human and part horse is a centaur."

"Is that all?"

"Pretty much, at this point. None of the pictures seemed very accurate, though: they were mostly disproportionate and had a whole horse section from the waist down."

"Did you come across any sections that dealt with someone actually turning into one?"

"Nope. According to mythology (that's where centaurs are most common) they're created magically." Prideux shrugged. "I'd take it for a bunch of hokey nonsense if you didn't have the ears." 

Javert nearly told him of the tail, but caught himself. The tail was a very delicate subject at this point, irritating him to no end (in more ways than one) and he didn't see the need to let Prideux, still an annoying subordinate, to know about it. And anyway, why was he being so damned open with this man? 

"I'll just be leaving now…" Prideux eased away upon seeing the beginnings of a glower on Javert's face. "You do realize if you keep making those kinds of faces it'll stick that way…" With that last parting shot Prideux took off down the street again.

_________________________

**To be honest this isn't my favorite chapter, but oh well…please R&R!**


	5. Chapter 5: Les Commencements de Micmac

**I apologize for the lack of updates--I was sick for nearly a week, and after that rehearsals for 'My Fair Lady' became much more involved, so I haven't had an opportunity to write for nearly a month (think rehearsals four nights a week, three hours or more per rehearsal). *falls over* Many thanks to my reviewers, by the way. **

-------------------------

After a very aggravating day involving sitting on the new tail numerous times, Javert made his slow way towards his tenement. Not only had he sat on his tail (a painful experience every time it occurred), but he was ferociously hungry all the time now. Only with a firm application of will-power did he keep to a normal schedule of eating, but he nearly spent a fortune just to take the edge off his hunger.

As he deliberately climbed the narrow steps to the front door Javert could vaguely hear Mme. Gillette clattering around in her 'office'. At least, he was pretty sure that he could hear her--the muffled effect in his crushed ears made them ring, probably a result from the painful position they were in under the hat. He wondered if there would be a time when he could leave them free and splendidly unrestrained--

"Ah, there you are, Monsieur." Yes, there Mme. Gillette stood in all her aged glory, effectively blocking the entrance to the building. Javert paused, looking for a way to go around her, but her considerable bulk prevented any passage.

Javert tapped the brim of his hat. "Bonjour, madame. If you don't mind, I'd like to go up to my room now."

Mme. Gillette crossed her arms. "First you take the hat off. I thought I had made myself clear, monsieur, when I said to take it off when you come in the house."

"Madame," Javert sighed (setting a firm hand on the hat in case she should snatch at it), "there is no one to see my hat and I will take it off the moment I go into my room. Now, if you don't mind--"

"Monsieur, I do have rules--"

"_Madame let me past!_" Javert bellowed the last phrase so loudly that it startled even Mme. Gillette. She stared at him with a surprised expression, and moved out of his way. Javert brushed past her and took the stairs two at a time, relieved that she hadn't pursued the matter but a little irritated that he had let his anger slip. The woman was maddening, but he usually didn't react that way towards her.

Within the peace and quiet of his room Javert tugged the hat from his head, letting the ears spring to their normal shape. It felt ridiculously nice to massage the tingling away and stretch them one way and then another, reveling in the freed sensation. At the other end (literally) the tail twitched, flicking the braided hair against his backside with a distinct tickling sensation. Yet another annoying side effect…the tail seemed to react to itching, tickling, tingling, and any other sensations with a twitch.

Javert carefully sat down on the edge of his bed, looking for a position that wouldn't crush the tail. Finally he found what seemed to be a happy medium of sorts and was free to wonder if Prideux had discovered anything that might be applicable to his situation. The thought occurred to him: perhaps he should be looking for his own answers instead of relying on a person he found irritating beyond normal means. The thought was tempting--but the thought of sitting for any period of time in a hard seat whilst looking up dusty old information was not.

He eased down to lie flat on his back and stare at the ceiling. His ears flicked back and forth as he slowly relaxed, catching little sounds from down below and outside. In a few minutes he was asleep.

------------------------

A loud crash woke Javert from his sleep; his eyes snapped open and he lay frozen for a moment, listening for another sound. When none came he relaxed a little and looked around; oddly enough, he seemed to be closer to the floor than he remembered his bed to normally be, and splinters of wood were pressed against his sides.

Sides? He didn't normally have sides that far down the mattress…

Javert leaned up on his elbows, awkwardly looking around the room. For some reason he couldn't roll onto his back, and he glanced down to see glossy black hair from the waist down. He jumped to his feet as if he'd been scorched, getting his legs tangled in the blankets and falling over with another resounding crash.

Once he pulled the blankets from his legs (amid much swearing) he gaped in bewilderment. A horse's lower body seemed to be attached to his waist (which explained the thick black hair but didn't explain anything else). Javert lifted a front leg cautiously, shaking the black hoof at the end in an effort to dislodge it. The hoof remained firmly attached, of course, and Javert stumbled across the room, wincing at the ungodly racket the hooves made.

"Hey! Keep quiet!" Mme. Gillette gave a decent bellow and accompanied it with a banging sound that rang through the floor. Javert flinched, freezing again, and listened carefully for another protest. Upon hearing none he tip-toed back towards the wreckage that used to be his bed and carefully lifted shreds of cloth that looked suspiciously like the pants he had been wearing. Looking over his shoulder he could see the glossy black hair upon the hindquarters, and bits of pant-leg still clung to his back legs.

Once the initial shock wore off, Javert raised his right hand to his ear and began twisting it. The calming sensation of having something tangible in his hand helped keep him from completely flipping out--and now his back itched. Upon pulling his shirt off he discovered a thick black mane running down his back and averaging about five inches in length. The hair tickled his back terribly. _I'll have to do something about that, _he thought.

After he had calmed down somewhat, Javert heaved a deep breath. _Easy, I'll just wait in here until the other tenants leave._ He tried not to think about what to do after that.

---------------

Oddly enough, the tenants were all out of the building by 9 AM. What brought about this unforeseen good luck Javert didn't know, and he didn't question it. Once the last renter, an older man whose best days were behind him, had made his unbearably slow way down the stairs and outside, Javert forced himself to wait another half-hour before easing over the wooden floor and opening his door. Upon cracking the door he cautiously poked his head out and glanced up and down the hall, ears flicking uneasily. Muffled voices and steps sent him retreating back inside and locking the door. But after another five minutes, with the voices and steps never coming up the stairs or even noticeably closer, he tugged his uniform's shirt over his head, ignoring the itching sensation that accompanied his mane being pressed against his back. If he could just get downstairs and out the back door, he could keep to alleyways and sparsely populated areas of the city until he could find Prideux. He didn't really expect the sergeant to be able to help him, but there was always a chance that Prideux would surprise him.

He put on his greatcoat as best as he could--the tail bunched over the horse section and prevented him from buttoning from the waist down. Otherwise the natural cut of the coat fit him quite well in this form.

After making all necessary and foreseeable preparations, Javert opened the tenement door. A careful glance down the hallway assured Javert of his present safety--Mme. Gillette had left for her breakfast. Javert adjusted his top hat, this time leaving the ears free; if anyone saw him the ears would be the last thing they'd notice, considering the horse attached to his derriere.

Another cautionary glance, then Javert eased into the hallway. He turned unconsciously to the right due to the wall in front of himself--and promptly wedged his horse section solidly in the doorway. The moment he felt the resistance his first instinct was to jump forward, which firmly crushed his hip against the doorway and his face against the opposite wall.

Javert rolled his eyes as best he could whilst in his current position. _All right, so that didn't quite work. Let's try back…_ He eased back a little, but only managed to squish his left leg and scrape his sideburns against the wall. After a little edging back and forth, he gave up and kicked the doorway. Hard. The plaster gave way pleasantly beneath his hoof, and finally freed his hindquarters. But now there was a huge hole in the wall. Javert looked back with a frown, decided that he really didn't have time to deal with this, and set off down the hallway.

He started easily enough, with a feeling that he was starting to get the hang of using four legs, when he ran into a minor obstacle: stairs. The stairs to the back door went down for about ten steps, then outside. Javert hesitated for a moment, then bravely plunged down the steps, stumbling a little at first but quickly picking up speed and rhythm. He managed to reach the door without slamming into it and slipped outside as easily as his now-centaurified-body could.

The chill November air swept through the confused airways between buildings, blowing first one direction and then another as if it couldn't make up its mind which way to go. Javert's ears twitched nervously, and he felt an uneasiness at being so _exposed_. All the open space and corners and shadows--he froze and listened as hard as he could. The only sound that came to his ears proved to be the indistinct mutterings from the street at the front of the building, but they could barely be heard above the whining of the wind through various buildings. Once he was sure that no one was possibly in the near vicinity, he set off at a quick trot to weave through the alleys and backstreets of Paris.

Obviously it was only a matter of time before Javert would meet someone, despite the precautions he took to slow every hundred feet or so and listen carefully. During one of these pauses he heard the high-pitched voice of a child--no, children--alternately squabbling and playing together. From the sounds they seemed to be approaching quickly; he flattened himself against a wall as best he could and buried his chin into his greatcoat. Something he had discovered some time ago was that people of the unobservant sort tended not to look up or at inconspicuous objects that did not move. Unfortunately, these children proved not to be the unobservant type.

"Look, a _horse_!"

"Where's its head?"

"Quick, grab it!"

Javert swore and leaped forward without thinking; the kids shrank back of one accord, alternately tripping over the garbage in the alleyway or squealing amongst themselves about shoving. Javert took advantage of the confusion to bolt into a fast canter. The sudden speed surprised even him, and he could barely keep an eye on the junk that customarily littered the average Parisian alleyway fast enough to dodge them.

When he finally slowed several blocks later he could barely hear over the gasping of his own breath. But the gamins (he was sure they were gamins with those torn clothes and faces covered with perpetual grime) had given up the chase. Javert heaved another breath and glanced down at his legs.

His headlong flight had resulted in running through every other pile of refuse in the alley. As such, his legs were now covered, wrapped, entangled, or otherwise covered in garbage from hoof to knee. As he leaned over and picked the junk from his legs he wondered if it would be too severe to swear the filthy little demon-gamins out. It'd make him feel better, anyway.

Javert managed to clean his legs off without swearing too much (that stain of some kind of rotten fruit adhering solidly to the hair of his back hocks was too much to keep his mouth shut), brushed his hands off with a disgusted grimace, and looked around. _Oh, lovely. Of all places, why did I have to run up to the back door of the Prefecture itself??_

Admittedly, the back of the Prefecture wasn't exactly conducive to Javert's desires at the moment--people were coming and going out of the huge building all the time, using the back door not as often as the front but still using it. At the fear of being caught he slinked back into the alley.

_But you can find Prideux here,_ a little voice yelled (since it was little, that wasn't very loud, but it was noticeable). _Remember? You were going to find him anyway._

_Or you could just wait at his house,_ another little voice intervened. _He wouldn't be very surprised…maybe…_

The little voices (respectively A and B) started yelling at each other, one pooh-poohing the idea of waiting and the other screaming out the stupidity of searching. Javert tried to tune the whole mess out and studied the windows of the Prefecture with sudden interest. Maybe there was a way to get Prideux's attention…but before he could put the plan into action the back door opened.

-----------------------------


	6. Chapter 6

***crawls in groveling and scraping* I apologize soooo much for not updating for *counts on fingers* five months!! If it makes you all feel better, I was totally stuck later on but I think I know what to do now. **

'**My Fair Lady' went off without a hitch, by the way…and my brother and I even did 'Footloose' during my impromptu hiatus. They were both amazing…**

-----------------------------

Deputy Chief Rousseau, the officer on duty, rubbed a hand across his pudgy face and stretched with boredom and inactivity. The only bad part about slow days, despite the lack of work that 'needed' to be done, was that he had to challenge attackers of the coffee pot. That lovely drink kept the Parisian workforce going--and, being rather superior to a good number of the men in the building, he needed the stuff more than the next man. How was he to keep the wheels of brilliance in his mind turning without steady applications of caffeine grease?

Despite precautions (i.e., naming the coffee off-limits to all save himself), Captain Rousseau found the remains of a coffee spree in the form of grounds scattered on the floor and an all-too-empty pot conspicuously on the floor. After inquiring as to the nature of this (and receiving no answer) Rousseau took it upon himself to start a new pot. Unfortunately, this involved going outside to fetch water which he as an officer was obviously not required to do.

As he debated whether to do the job himself or 'recruit' another person to do it, Sergeant Reginald Prideux approached him.

"Has Inspector Javert come in today?" the sergeant asked. If Rousseau had been the observant type, he might have noticed the worried look on Prideux's face. Not being very observant, he overlooked the concern in the sergeant's voice and only saw Prideux as an opportunity.

"No, he has not. But I'm glad you came to me, sergeant." Rousseau pointed at the coffee pot. "The pot is empty. Go make another."

A blank confusion crossed Prideux's face. "But…I have work to do…"

"It can wait--go make another pot." Rousseau made shooing gestures with his hands. "Go, go."

Prideux reluctantly shuffled out the door. Rousseau then turned to his own work and began writing furiously--he had nearly mastered this crossword puzzle, and damned if he was going to lose.

-------------------------------

Sergeant Reginald Prideux couldn't help fuming a bit as he made his way down the corridor in search of the back door. Sure, Rousseau was a superior, but that didn't make him the overseer and all the little workers his go-fers whenever he felt like it. And being brushed off concerning the Inspector was even more infuriating. He seemed to be the only person anxious about Javert's whereabouts--everyone else in the office seemed mildly surprised but all too accepting of the man's present disappearance. There was a good chance that he was only concerned because he knew about the transformation--but when a man comes in to work every day of his life and then suddenly vanishes, even for one day, without an excuse, he saw that as reason for concern.

He banged out the backdoor as he continued to fume--the cool air didn't help his heated temper at all. Since Prideux was of the mind that needs a lot of different factors to make angry, he jumped to another subject that tended to be a thorn in his side: Rousseau's holier-than-thou position. It didn't seem to matter whether one was competent or even hard-working: if you had money and a family that could trace its lineage all the way back to Adam you could buy yourself any title in the world. Rousseau's commission was a well-known subject: the man had bought his way to the top, ignoring the chain of command and perching himself in a spot where he could order about those with less monetary means. Prideux couldn't help wishing that _he_ was deputy chief instead of a measly sergeant--it'd be nice to have a crack at fixing the system, maybe do a little ordering about himself--

"Prideux!"

The sergeant froze, looking around wildly. No sign of anyone, and yet he HAD heard a voice--

"Over here, you dingbat!"

Ah. Well, now he didn't have to worry about Javert any more. A quick glance to an alley some distance away revealed the self-same inspector's head and upper body as he peered around the corner of a building. Prideux shed his former anxiety and made a good attempt at appearing relaxed and unconcerned.

"No need to call names," he called, leaning backwards to slump against the building. Well, he was _going_ to lean against the building--he misjudged the distance, fell flat on his back, and clipped the top of his head against the stone.

As Prideux popped back up to his feet, Javert snorted in derision. "Perhaps I was a little too lenient in my accusation," the inspector snapped. Prideux decided not to answer and busied himself with brushing bits of dust and grass off his coat.

"Why didn't you come to work today?" Prideux called. "I found something about 'spontaneous transformation' that you'd be interested in."

"I'm sure," Javert replied, sounding completely the opposite. "Get over here."

"Pushy, pushy," Prideux said while obeying. "Anyway, there was something about a person being randomly changed, usually due to outside influences, and--HOLY BLEEP!!" Having caught sight of Javert's current state, Prideux uttered a completely unprintable word and stood gaping.

Javert darted out, grabbed Prideux by the forearm, and unceremoniously dragged him back to the relative safety of the alleyway. "Shut up! Yes, this is what happened last night. I'm in a bit of a spot and you're the only person I can trust at the moment."

"What about your landlady?" Prideux asked, still staring.

"Madame Gillette?? Good Lord, no! She's the biggest blabbermouth in Paris--I'd never be safe around her. And stop staring! I'm already getting sick of being stared at!"

"Sorry," Prideux said, ripping his gape away with a sheepish air. "Of course…well, you could stay with me for a while, but I don't know if that would work. I have an apartment--my landlady probably wouldn't like it if I showed up with a horse--"

"I am NOT a horse!" Javert snapped.

"Pretty darned close," Prideux muttered. "Anyway, that probably won't work. But I have a better idea."

"Before you divulge your plans," Javert interrupted, "I'm going to send you to buy some food. I haven't eaten yet today, and I am starving."

"Can't you eat grass?"

"_No._" The look Javert shot at Prideux very nearly scorched his already flame-red hair. "I may have the body of a horse, but my teeth and tastes are very much human. Here, take this," he pulled some money out of his pack, "and buy as much food as it'll pay for."

"Five louis??" Prideux stared at the money shoved into his hand.

"As trite as it may sound, I am very, VERY hungry, and you would do best to obey and not stand idly about when given a direct order from a superior!"

"Sir yes sir!" Prideux mock-saluted and scurried off. Javert heaved a sigh and leaned his left side against the brick alleyway. The odd thing about his hunger was that it didn't seem to come from his human belly anymore--the grumblings and hunger pangs came from the horse section. _Very odd,_ he thought, but dwelling upon it proved impossible because the back door to the Prefecture banged open. Javert backed up, feeling foolishly criminal as his heart leaped in fear. By the sounds of it the footsteps were staying around the door, and he peered around the edge of the alleyway.

Rousseau… Javert narrowed his eyes as he recognized the pudgy figure looking around. Rousseau was a lazy man who had sailed easily to his current status by shelling money out to any who were willing to give him a boost. Due to this completely legal yet generally despised practice coupled with a distinct 'aren't I smart' attitude, Rousseau wasn't exactly a favorite person in the Prefecture. The last person Javert wanted to see him like this wasn't Rousseau, but the man ranked fairly close to the top of the list, so Javert backed farther into the alley and tried to ignore the man's grumblings.

------------------------------

_Damn that sergeant! He vanished right out the backdoor--where could he have gone in such a short amount of time? _

Such were the thoughts of Deputy Chief Rousseau as he searched for Sergeant Prideux. He had just finished the crossword puzzle, and when Prideux didn't come back with the coffee he began to wonder (a strange thing because he usually didn't wonder about subordinates). As he didn't find Prideux as soon as he wanted, he began calling out for the man.

"Prideux! Sergeant! Come back here! You haven't finished your job!" Rousseau stumbled against a bit of gravel. "Damn! Who puts those there, anyway?" he muttered, shoving the gravel off to the side with his foot. After a couple minutes of pacing back and forth, Rousseau glanced up to see a figure in the alleyway. "Hey! You! You see a red-haired guy run out of here?"

The figure jumped upon being hailed, and shook his head wildly.

Rousseau walked closer. "Wait a second…Inspector? Why didn't you show up for work this morning?" _I lost a couple of bets that you wouldn't come in one day_, he added mentally.

"Uh…" The inspector backed away. "Had some personal problems!" He spun and fled in a clattering of horse hooves.

"Hm." Rousseau halted at the sound of hooves…he didn't recall _seeing _the inspector on a horse. But that was the least of matters on his mind at the moment: between losing his human coffee-maker, losing a bet, and becoming chilled in the November wind he retreated back inside in a most foul temper.

----------------------------

Javert slunk back to the alleyway behind the Prefecture feeling quite ridiculous. B.T. (before the transformation) he could make people obey him with a word, a single command. He wasn't afraid of death itself and would go quietly when the time came. Now, a subordinate for whom he had nothing but disdain could make him flee in an undignified fear of being caught.

"Why don't I want to be caught?" Javert mused aloud. "Perhaps if I let more people than Prideux (annoying as he is) know of this, I could get out of Paris easier…"

_To what extent_? Logic snapped. _You're probably the only person in the world who has a horse stuck to their derriere. You'd be a freak sideshow before any decent money-grubber would let you go free._

"Yes…but on the other hand I can't rely on Prideux all the time--"

_Why not?_

"Because he's an annoying subordinate who has less means than a--a ferret to help me."

_A ferret? Why not an ant? Or a mouse? They're resourceful and so is he--_

"Back to the question."

_Right, right. He's helping you now, isn't he? And he's a resourceful kid. He probably knows someone who isn't associated with the government, won't try to make a killing, and can actually help. He's got family too, doesn't he? Somewhere on the line he was talking about them._

"Don't even go there. The last thing I need is a flock of grubby children swarming around me wherever I go--"

"Inspector?"

Javert looked up from his mumblings to see Prideux standing in front of him. Several paper sacks clutched in his arms held all sorts of food, and Javert pounced. Apparently

Prideux both thought it fascinating to watch the alarming rate of speed with which the food vanished down Javert's throat.

"Might I say that the phrase 'eat like a horse' can apply here?" Prideux commented after a little while of this pastime had elapsed.

"You've never been attached to a horse before," Javert growled.

"Of course, the way you snarl at everyone maybe a dog would have suited you better…" Prideux mused.

"Oh shut up," Javert grumbled. But he did slow down a little. After eating his fill he began brushing some crumbs from his hide; Prideux made a 'hmm'ing noise.

"Yes, what?"

"I was just thinking, Inspector…you'll be needing a place to stay, at least until you find a way to change back."

"Hmm," Javert said noncommittally.

"Or…" Prideux glanced sidelong at his superior, wondering why he didn't want anyone to know about him. Of course, having the back end of a horse attached to oneself was slightly embarrassing, but it couldn't be that big of a deal to keep in the force in that condition. "Perhaps you could come back in tomorrow," he mused outwardly. "That is, unless you'd be too embarrassed. I would completely understand--it's not easy being unlike your peers--"

"What the hell makes you think being different from my peers would make me embarrassed?" Javert snarled, making Prideux jump back despite himself. He didn't expect Javert to get quite that irritated, but looking at the flattened ears and aggressive posture of the inspector he wished that he could snatch those words back before they were stuffed down his throat.

"Sorry," he spluttered, waving his hands defensively. "I didn't mean to make you mad."

Javert stepped back, giving his subordinate one last deadly glare. "I suppose you think that by egging me on you'll get me to go back, hmm?"

"Well…" Prideux tried to grin disarmingly. "That was sort of the idea, anyway." He winced a little, waiting for the explosion, but to his surprise Javert's expression changed from suspicious normality to that of the cold, hard inspector. "I see," he said quietly. "Let's go, then."

"What?" Prideux yelled, then clapped a hand across his mouth. Javert ignored his subordinates choked gurgles and walked calmly towards the front of the Prefecture. Suddenly he paused, and glanced back. "Didn't you have a job to do, Sergeant?" he said. "I believe Deputy Chief Rousseau sent you to get coffee earlier."

"But--but--" Prideux gurgled again as Javert disappeared around the corner of the Prefecture and darted after the inspector in a flurry of limbs.

---------------

**Dun dun dun!!! Mwahahaha! I love cliff-hangers!**


	7. Chapter 7

**I have been horribly remiss with this story… *headdesk* I have a bit of a buffer of story finally stacked up, but with NaNoWriMo coming up I'll have to take a break. Sigh.**

**I own nothing of Les Miserables. Wah.**

**_____________**

The poor young lieutenant on duty at the front desk of the Prefecture couldn't help gaping as what appeared to be Inspector Javert with a horse attached to his lower half sauntered in the front door, followed by a panicky-looking Sergeant Prideux. He continued to gape as the inspector took off his hat and shot a cold look at him.

"What's wrong with your jaw that it has to sag like that?" Inspector Javert growled. The lieutenant snapped his jaw shut and spluttered, "Nothing, sir!" As the cold gaze continued to pierce through him he scrambled to his feet, knocking his chair back in the process, and stood at trembling attention.

"Good. Pick up that chair and carry on." Inspector Javert finally took his gaze from the lieutenant, who frantically grabbed his chair and stood it up with a slam. As Javert strode past, hooves clopping on the solid floor like a strange sort of majestic metronome, the lieutenant sank down into his chair and stared at Sergeant Prideux. The latter shot a wild-eyed look at the lieutenant, shrugged enormously, and flopped into a welcoming seat.

"What--who--" the young lieutenant gasped. Prideux paused, visibly seized a hold of his own quivering reactions, and said, "Don't you just hate it when they don't listen to you?"

"Huh?"

"Don't tell me you've never seen a centaur before! Impossible beasts. I TOLD him not to go in here, but no, he had to go and be all 'I'm gonna do this my way'--" Prideux waved his hands around vaguely. "It's all very exasperating. Next time I'll just leave him at home."

"Er…" The lieutenant was now hopelessly confused. "You mean…he belongs to you?"

"Dear me, no!" Prideux slapped a hand across the desktop. "Don't say that in his hearing--he hates me to begin with. Very outspoken against the ownership thing."

"Er…" the lieutenant said again. Before he could choose a more intelligent approach a high-pitched shriek was heard from the back of the Prefecture. Both the lieutenant and Prideux recoiled to listen stiffly for another such sound. They didn't have long to wait.

"Inspector Javert! But how--what--" The whiny voice of Rousseau seemed on the verge of hysteria; Prideux had a strange image of a screeching pig stuck underneath a fence and snickered quietly.

"Oh, shut up!" Now Javert's voice rose above the squealing. It shut off as quickly as a slap, and Javert's voice continued. Unfortunately, the doors and walls between Javert and Prideux's ears muffled the voice until its baritone rumble could hardly be heard.

"Dang," Prideux grumbled. "If you would excuse me…" With that he ambled off with the best show of unconcern he could manage--that is, until he walked through the first door leading to the hallways. Then he pressed himself against the wall, inching along until he could pick out the voice of Javert in Rousseau's office.

"This was none of my doing--I just woke up this morning like this. Now, this will not reflect on my police-work at all. If anything it should help the force--"

"Help?" Rousseau squawked. "You must be joking!"

"No, I most certainly am not joking." An irritated note crept into the inspector's voice--Prideux could just see the man gritting his teeth in a snarl.

"No…no, I couldn't possibly--it's out of my jurisdiction--" Ah, falling back on the old 'make it someone else's problem' tack. Prideux rolled his eyes and tried to send a telepathic message to Javert along the lines of 'stop wasting your time, the old fool won't help us unless you threatened him with bodily harm'. Of course, Javert would never threaten a superior with anything resembling bodily harm, unless the transformation had addled his brain worse than they already were.

Apparently this prediction proved true, for after a short silence on the part of Javert, the inspector made a quiet acquiescence. Hooves clopped the wood floor, and before Prideux could scramble back to the front room the door opened and Javert pinned the sergeant to the floor with a withering glare.

Prideux resisted the urge to writhe under that gaze and grinned as disarmingly as he could. "Good afternoon, M. l'Inspecteur."

"Oh, shut up," Javert growled while sweeping past. "I'm going out."

"Er…" Prideux popped to his feet and saluted. "Permission to accompany you, sir!"

The glare intensified, and Prideux shrank back mumbling, "Yes, sir." It would have taken a blithering idiot not to see the unspoken threat in that gaze, and whereas Prideux was a clumsy moron he certainly wasn't a blithering idiot. He trailed after Javert, looked at the Inspector's back hooves, and thought better of following him so closely. He'd seen the after-effects of being kicked by a horse before, and it wasn't something he wanted to experience for himself.

--------------------------

Javert exited the Prefecture with the heaviness of anger still clinging in shreds like the ruined remnants of his trousers this morning. _Enough with the metaphors,_ he grumbled inwardly. It was bad enough that his recent transformation was cumbersome and unwieldy in buildings, but the fact that Deputy Chief Rousseau had tried to push the problem off to someone else was infuriating. He needed to cool off somewhere.

The door behind him opened, and Prideux strode out to lean against the wall of the Prefecture. The last face Javert wanted to see (other than Deputy Chief Rousseau) was Prideux's grinning mug. "I didn't say you could come with me," he snarled at the oblivious sergeant.

Prideux took one look at Javert's stormy face and decided that it probably wasn't in his best interest to follow the Inspector. "Er…I was just going back in," he mumbled, throwing out a few transparent excuses before hurrying back into the relative safety of the Prefecture. Javert seethed for a moment, nearly knocked down an innocent passer-by with his glare, and carefully made his way down the stone steps. Before he could take more than a dozen steps he became sharply aware of all the looks he was receiving: everyone in the small plaza had stopped and were either staring with open curiosity or pretending not to stare while doing so. He nearly hesitated--should he confront the nosy pedestrians, or merely ignore them as he always did? The question crossed his mind in a split second, and he slid into the familiar retreat of looking straight ahead as if unconscious of anything unusual, thank you very much, and serenely pacing across the plaza. In a few moments the odd silence lifted, replaced with the soft buzz of conversation. The familiar sound unconsciously reassured Javert, and he tucked his chin into his coat collar to sink into thought. Once he did so, the looks and murmuring ceased to bother him.

A plan of action, that's what he needed. He should go back to his apartment--that fleeing of earlier was an odd whim brought on by the transformation. Perhaps the horse part brought on a subliminal change in his thinking--he gritted his teeth at the annoyance of such a notion. It would make his life unnecessarily difficult if he had to retrain aspects of his brain.

So, go back to the apartment, ignore Mme. Gillette's harping, and plot the rest of his plan-of-action. With a solid goal in mind, Javert directed his feet towards the apartment. Mme. Gillette would be a formidable obstacle, but nothing he couldn't handle.


End file.
